


Muted Shades of Red and Green

by aurilly



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Espionage, Gen, Undercover as a Couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-16
Updated: 2013-11-16
Packaged: 2018-01-01 18:43:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1047297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aurilly/pseuds/aurilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pepper has to do all the work around here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Muted Shades of Red and Green

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DeathByChocolate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathByChocolate/gifts).



Pepper hopped lightly out of the golf cart that had transported them from the hotel lobby to their private, low-slung villa. The bellhop was already starting to take their luggage out, but Bruce remained hunched over himself in the backseat, squinting up at the sunlight.

“Are you coming?” When he didn’t move, Pepper went back and dragged him bodily from the vehicle. He didn’t stay by her side, though; while she was busy directing the placement of their bags and pulling cash out of her wallet for a tip, he began pottering about, exploring corners and bathroom appliances.

Once they were alone, she turned on him. “You’re supposed to act like you like me _more_ than you actually do, Bruce. But right now, I’m wondering if we’ve somehow gotten into a fight.”

“I told you before. I told all of you. This isn’t a good idea,” he mumbled from inside the closet. “I’m no actor.”

“You don’t need to act. Not much. We’re friends. Unless the idea of pretending you’re madly in love with me is somehow so horrifying a prospect?” 

“Two friends who share… that?” He nodded at the four-poster bed in the adjoining room. There was only one bedroom, and not even any real couches in the sitting area—only hard, Louis XV-style love seats.

“Neither of us takes up much room, and it’s a big bed. I think we’ll manage without accidentally boning.” 

Fear of her wrath hadn’t worked, so she was now trying out pure vulgar shock. She knew she shouldn’t have, but he was such an easy target. The more time she spent with Bruce, the more she had come to understand Tony’s addiction to poking him with pointy objects. He made such cute faces, like now when his shoulders hunched even further and he seemed to be attempting to bury himself in the closet.

“It’s not that we might…” He must have finally realized he was acting crazy, because he emerged back into the room, and began cleaning his glasses (so he would have an excuse not to make eye contact, she’d figured out weeks ago). “What if the other guy decides to make an appearance?”

“In the middle of the night?” 

Bruce frowned and continued awkwardly pacing the room. But Pepper hadn’t had a vacation in over a year, and she hadn’t had a vacation without Tony in ages longer than that. This may have been work—or, technically, a favor to Rhodey that amounted to work—but it wasn’t every day she found herself at a five-star resort in Goa with nothing to do but sun herself for an afternoon; she intended to take full advantage of the opportunity, bashful scientists be damned.

She came out of the bathroom in the new swimsuit she’d bought to go with her newly dyed chestnut brown hair. She’d spent her life limited mostly to blue and green swimsuits, but this little project afforded her the opportunity to go wild and wear poppy red. It took Bruce a minute to notice she had changed, but once he did, his jaw dropped.

Well, at least now he was looking at her the way all the people they were supposed to be conning would expect him to look at her.

He started cleaning his glasses again. Pepper rolled her eyes.

“Why are you still dressed like we’re in Canada? Get your trunks on. Chop chop.”

* * *

Rhodey’s team over at Homeland Security had picked up chatter that notorious arms dealer Nicola Arantino had come into possession of a new and nasty breed of biological weapons, and was looking for a buyer. 

When the analysts had all come running, Rhodey had reached out to Pepper for a favor. 

“This isn’t my job,” she had replied once he’d told her his idea of sending her in undercover as a potential buyer. “Why don’t you ask Natasha? At least she’s an actual spy.”

“No can do. Romanov only answers to SHIELD, and I don’t want to involve them in this. Some things have to remain within our own government. Plus, you’ve got the right experience. You know the lingo. She doesn’t. It’s got to be you.”

Pepper, who had read through the documents, had pointed at a line in the weapon description. “How am I supposed to authenticate these?” 

“I’m working on it.” 

Pepper had laughed when she’d come home the next day and found Tony and Rhodey in the den, ganging up on poor Dr. Banner.

“I thought peer pressure was supposed to end after high school,” Bruce had whined, wringing his hands.

“Don’t you want to be heroes to your country?” Rhodey had asked both of them.

“I already saved the world this year,” Bruce had replied. “I’m good for awhile.”

In the end, Rhodey had promised to stay onsite and run the comms, and Tony had promised to take both Bruce and Pepper on real (but separate, thus giving Pepper three for the price of one) vacations in recompense, as long as they sent him pictures of their disguises. 

And that’s how they’d ended up being strong-armed into a trip to Goa, sunning themselves for an afternoon before getting dressed for a party Arantino was throwing at his nearby estate. 

The plan was for Pepper and Bruce to impersonate two of the invitees: a reclusive but brilliant Canadian biologist named Kevin Yanuchek; and his fiancée, Adelaide Chandon, a Frenchwoman who had recently started her own illegal arms business, and was using Yanuchek as her right hand man. Yanuchek was reclusive enough that no one knew what he looked like, but Chandon, although her hair was quite different, bore a passing resemblance to Pepper.

Rhodey’s team had quietly captured the real couple in Charles de Gaulle, and inserted Bruce and Pepper in their stead for the connecting flights to India.

The fine art of sunning is a bit like riding a bike: it always comes back. Within fifteen minutes, Pepper was all set up by the pool: sunscreen applied, check; Gucci shades perched on top of her head, check; daiquiri on a little table next to her, check; Kindle loaded with deliciously predictable chick-lit in her lap, check. 

The only thing cramping her style right now was her supposed fiancé. Bruce had reluctantly put on some hilariously ugly paisley swim trunks, but he kept trying to cover himself with towels that Pepper, without even looking up from her book, snatched away every time.

“You know, for a guy who spends an inordinate amount of time naked and green, or naked and post-green looking for clothes, you’re surprisingly modest.”

He mumbled something inaudible. 

“I’m sorry?” she politely asked.

Bruce cleared his throat. “It shouldn’t be me on this mission. They picked the wrong guy. I’m not Tony or Steve or Rhodey or Barnes. I don’t look like someone you’d be dating. Especially not when you’re all…” He gestured vaguely at her glamorous get-up.

Finally, awkwardly, painfully, maybe they were getting somewhere.

“I’m flattered,” Pepper replied, and she was, “but you’re giving them all too much credit. You’re cute. Definitely cute, in a sexy-smart, ‘bet he’s the best guy’ kind of way. The kind of cute that a lot of women, me included, prefer. Rhodey, I’ll grant you, is flawless, but you don’t have a glowing hole in your chest and raging narcissism, you don’t have a metal arm and only half your memories, and you don’t dress and act like an octogenarian—though, it’s close.”

She peered meaningfully at his swim trunks.

“What’s wrong with my bathing suit?” he asked.

* * *

“You look nice,” Bruce whispered as they entered the party later that evening.

“You don’t clean up so bad yourself,” Pepper replied. 

“Let’s just hope nothing happens to rip the suit, if you know what I mean.”

“You’ll be fine,” Rhodey’s voice said into their ears. “Hold hands if the comms are working and you can hear me.”

Pepper clasped Bruce's fingers tightly in hers. 

“We hear you, James,” Bruce sighed. “See you, too.”

“Where?” Pepper whispered.

Bruce nudged her to look at her four o’clock, where Rhodey dressed as a caterer, was coming out of the swinging door that led to the kitchen. He looked miserable, eyeing the plate of hors d’oeuvres he was passing around but was unable to eat. His face was internationally known, but expectations were a powerful thing; the waitstaff might as well have been invisible to the snooty party-goers, and even if they’d been paying attention, the afro Rhodey was sporting was among the best disguises Pepper had ever seen. 

It was all she could do not to wince when her ears were suddenly filled with the horrible strains of Black Sabbath.

“How’s the party?” Tony’s voice said. “Good shrimp?”

“What are you doing, Tony?” Rhodey whispered. “Where are you? Please tell me you are not on this continent.”

“No, I’m at home, in the lab. Just figured I’d hack into your frequency and keep tabs on how you’re all doing. I feel like I’m back in the 30s, listening to radio dramas. Rogers should be here. It’d make him feel like home.”

Bruce groaned audibly. 

“Aw, come on, Banner. You’ve got a hot date tonight. Tell me. Is she wearing the backless number or is it—”

“It’s a new dress,” Pepper interrupted. “And with some new lingerie that you won’t see tonight. Maybe Bruce will if he gets lucky.”

“I’ll kill him.”

“What did I do to deserve this?” Bruce whined.

It was too bad this was all so serious and Bruce was so shy, because Pepper was having fun. The champagne was expensive, the band tuneful, the décor tasteful, and the whole experience just a little bit thrilling. Not for everyday, but it was a nice change being the one on the scene, with Tony sitting at home, doing odd things around the lab to keep from worrying. 

And… Sure, she had a twitchy scientist next to her who might turn into a monster at any moment, but as long as she kept him calm, Bruce was a surprisingly agreeable vacation partner and date. He didn’t leave the hotel room a mess, he wasn’t an alcoholic, he actively avoided making scenes, and he didn’t hog the conversation. Pepper loved Tony, really she did, but in lieu of any good girlfriends to take trips with, Bruce was proving a nice platonic breather.

Now, if only he could drink enough to loosen up.

Pepper handed Bruce her glass of wine and asked for another. “Drink up.”

“I’ve already had one.”

“Liquid courage. Let’s go. Down the hatch.”

Bruce drank as requested. Pepper waited ten minutes (ten minutes spent listening to Tony and Rhodey bicker through the comms while Bruce rolled his eyes) and then dragged him over to talk to Arantino, whose eyes immediately went to her cleavage.

Pepper was _so_ going to enjoy taking him down.

“You must be Ms. Chandon,” Arantino said, still talking to her rack. “I’ve heard much about you.”

Pepper was about to reply, but was interrupted, somewhat surprisingly, by Bruce, who used a different, more assertive tone than she’d ever heard from him. 

“As you’ve been informed, we heard you have a weapon in need of a buyer,” he spat, forcing Arantino to stop ogling Pepper through sheer force of will. “My _fiancée_ and I would like to make you an offer. Provided I am given an opportunity to authenticate the merchandise.”

Pepper dared to glance at her partner, and saw something flashing behind his eyes that she’d never quite seen before. Possessiveness, impatience… maybe even a little bit of aggression. He was even doing a pretty decent Canadian accent. Something had turned on in him.

The wine had been a good idea, she thought. Or maybe, all this time, he had been hiding the same kind of mama bear protectiveness that sometimes motivated Steve. Whatever it was, it was sexy.

Even Arantino seemed impressed. He stepped back from where he’d been standing a little too close in Pepper’s space. “Yes, yes of course. I did not realize you were Yanuchek.”

Bruce’s posture softened, and his face crinkled back into the affable look of distraction he usually wore. “It’s okay. Sometimes I forget, too.”

“What are you saying? Are you crazy?” Tony said in their ears. “You are the Worst. Spy. Ever.”

“He’s brilliant,” Pepper said to both the now-impressed arms dealer and the eavesdropping Tony. 

“Congratulations on your engagement,” Arantino said, looking at them curiously, as though one last little bit of suspicion remained. 

Pepper knew what he was looking for; she could almost read the question in his eyes. The couple they were impersonating was apparently known for outrageous PDA. She nuzzled her nose against Bruce’s ear, just close enough to the earpiece so that Tony would hear the way she kissed and all but licked along Bruce’s earlobe. Bruce trembled ever so slightly, and did a terrible job of stifling back a whimper. But that’s what Pepper wanted; letting control slip could sometimes be useful. Bruce, almost unconsciously, turned to her and before he knew it, her tongue was in his half-open mouth. For a terrible millisecond, he didn’t respond, but then his brain caught up with his lips and… 

Pepper’s brain almost stopped working. Diffident and self-deprecating to an extreme, she’d never expected Bruce to be able to _kiss_. She almost felt guilty at what a hard time she had pulling away.

“He is always so sweet,” she told Arantino, daintily (but also a little dirtily) licking the taste of Bruce off her lips.

“What’s going on?” Tony asked when Rhodey, who was watching from the other side of the room, snorted in laughter. 

“Wow,” Rhodey drawled. “That… That was hot.”

“What?!”

“Do you have the merchandise here?” Pepper asked, ignoring Tony's sputtering. “If so, this deal can be accomplished in only a few minutes and we can all enjoy the rest of the party with money in your pocket and the weapon in ours.”

Pepper’s confidence, as well as the identity-confirming kiss solidified things for Arantino. “Follow me.”

He led them past bodyguards and through a side door from the main ballroom. Down a series of rights and lefts and windows with a view of the ominously dark shore outside, they reached a wood-paneled door with an electronic keypad. 

The office behind the elaborately carved door was a shockingly modern anomaly in this otherwise traditional South Asian palace. White walls, modular furniture and primary colors almost blinded Pepper once she walked in.

Arantino knew they had no weapons on them, as all guests had been checked before entering the house, so he dismissed the guards, since a waifish woman and her small-built, nerd of a partner hardly posed a threat, especially unarmed. The guy was big enough to crush both of them with his fist.

(However, Rhodey had his own team of Q’s back home.)

The actual trade went easily enough. Bruce asked for certain chemicals so he could run quick tests on the chemicals in the refrigerated vials. Once the drops in a petri dish changed from green to purple, he nodded, and Pepper reached under her skirt for the elaborate 18th century garter she had been hiding. Anyone even remotely trained in diamond evaluation could see she was wearing at least thirty million dollars worth of jewels—and that was before factoring in the antique settings.

Arantino was still gaping at her partly exposed leg when Bruce—possessively again—asked, “Do we have a deal?”

“Yes, yes of course.”

“It has been a pleasure doing business with you.”

And here was the silly part, the part Pepper had _so_ been looking forward to, despite Tony’s teasing and offers of a million other kinds of personally crafted weapons. But Pepper knew this was the best; Arantino, so concerned with next-generation technology, would have no defenses against it, would never see it coming.

She pulled out a bottle of pepper spray disguised as mouth wash and got Arantino right in the eyes. 

He swatted and wailed. Meanwhile, Bruce came at him with a syringe (hidden in a fake tube of chapstick) full of tranquilizer that dropped him almost immediately. 

Unfortunately, Arantino’s last move before losing consciousness face-forward onto his desk was to press a panic button Pepper hadn’t seen. 

White emergency lights began flashing.

Pepper and Bruce grabbed the test tubes and the garter and ran back into the hallway.

“Someone’ll be after us in a minute. We need an exit, Tony,” Pepper said. “Can you hack into the security of this place and find us one?”

“On it, babe.”

“Where’s Arantino?” Rhodey asked next. 

“In his office,” Bruce said with a cutely smug little smile, and Pepper realized that he probably wasn’t accustomed to taking down heavies as himself. “Unconscious.”

“On my way.”

Tony began shouting directions at them. “Right, left, another left. You’re looking for a side door that leads to the garden.”

They turned the last corner and saw the sliding door and the twinkling lights of the garden behind it. 

“There’s a code on it,” Bruce panted after trying to kick the glass out.

“Unlocking for you now. Aren’t you so glad I crashed this party?”

“Ecstatic,” Bruce deadpanned. 

“Nice work in there,” Pepper whispered proudly to Bruce, since she hadn’t had a chance to praise him for his quick reflexes before.

He beamed at her, and then, goddammit, in the middle of a high-speed escape, actually took off his glasses to rub them.

“You need both eyes right now, Bruce. Focus.”

“Right. Right.”

She could hear footsteps coming closer, but the people were still out of sight, due to all the twists and turns of the hallway.

The light on the keypad turned from red to green. “Thanks, Tony.”

Bruce pulled her through the door and into the garden. They ran across the green grass, still wet and slippery from a recent sprinkler cycle. However, at the other end, a wall—much taller than it had seemed from a distance—blocked their exit from the estate.

“Shit.” Pepper took off her stilettoes, not that she had any hope of climbing it.

Behind them, three goons with machine guns opened fire. Pepper and Bruce dropped instinctively to the ground.

“Pep? Bruce? You okay?” Tony and Rhodey both asked, worry and words piling on top of one another.

“There’s no way out,” Pepper said. “No way over.”

Bruce looked at her with a brave glint. “There’s a way.”

“How? We can't… Ohhhhh.”

“Never wanted you to have to see this but…” With an embarrassed grimace, Bruce closed his eyes and let out all the rage he usually kept bottled up. It filled him, throttled him, turned him entirely the wrong color. Pepper watched in awe as all the buttons on his lovely suit popped, as all the stitching on his perfectly tailored pants ripped open, and her darling, cutie-patoot Bruce was replaced by a twelve-foot green rage monster. 

But it turned out that the Hulk was, in his own way, also a darling.

“Potts!” he bellowed affectionately. 

(Apparently, while Pepper had recently had her tongue down Bruce’s throat, she and the Hulk were still in the very formal stages of their relationship.)

Hulk turned to Arantino’s quickly approaching security guards and roared. The smart ones immediately retreated, while the brave ones continued to advance. While he was thus occupied, Pepper, always levelheaded, reached over to grab his dropped glasses as well as her purse. Then she let him pull her into his huge chest and shield her with one enormous arm. A shower of bullets rained sideways at them, but they bounced off his skin and never got near her. The Hulk took a flying leap over the estate wall and careened down the beach at a run, so much faster than any human could run—not even Steve could have kept up.

The beach was empty, as this whole stretch belonged to Arantino, and the neighboring stretch was part of a sleepy hotel not known for its nightlife. They ran for almost three miles before the Hulk slowed down. The lights of the next town twinkled before them. 

“I think you can put me down now, dearie,” Pepper said, not entirely sure where the ‘dearie’ had come from (maybe it was because being called ‘Potts’ made her feel like Angela Lansbury as a teakettle). Still, he responded to the affection and began to reduce his speed.

“Potts okay?”

“Potts is great. We can play again another day, but right now, I think I’d like to see Bruce, if you don’t mind. You did great, Hulk. Really good.”

“Potts safe. Hulk glad.”

The Hulk released Pepper and steadied her while she found her balance again. Then he kind of lolled off to one side and curled up into a ball. Soon, he had shrunk down to Bruce’s size, and Pepper found herself on a truly beautiful beach illuminated by moonlight, and in the company of a naked scientist.

Sometimes, Pepper’s own life made her laugh.

“Tony, we’re okay. Tony?” Pepper called. She had figured Bruce’s earpiece had popped out during his transformation, but she hadn’t realized her own had fallen out during the run. “Uh oh. Radio silence.”

“Did he hurt you?” Bruce asked with a pinched face. 

“He was adorable.”

“Sorry. I’m naked.” Bruce made a motion to cover himself, but there was nothing to do it with, and anyway, it was too dark to see more than hazy (yet shockingly impressive) shapes.

Pepper opened her purse and pulled out a silk sarong she’d bought at the hotel gift shop for just such an occasion. The thin fabric had folded and folded into a small, purse-sized square, but once shaken out, it was big enough to cover Bruce. 

“I always come prepared,” she said as she handed it over.

He wrapped it around himself with care as they made their way—both barefoot—to the main road. Pepper watched him with interest; his time spent in India showed, as he knew exactly where to fold and knot and twist the fabric to form a flattering and appropriate outfit. She pulled out a smaller one and tied it around her head like a veil.

“You’re like Mary Poppins with your bag of goodies,” Bruce noted. “Do you still have the weapons, too?” 

“Yes, right here. Mission accomplished.”

“Where to now?”

Pepper didn’t know. They couldn’t go back to the hotel; Arantino would be looking for them. And with their communications dead, they couldn’t arrange for a pick-up. They had succeeded, but were now on their own.

“I bet Tony and Rhodey are freaking out right now,” she mused.

Bruce smiled, the diffident goody-two-shoes gone for a moment. “Let them freak. The night isn’t over. And we’re still on a date.”

“Oh, are we?”

“Yes, and it’s a hot one,” he said, and it was clear he had never said anything like that in his life, and had only found the daring to say it now because it wasn’t actually true. Excellent kissing and unexpected nudity aside, this was like being on a date with… with her cousin. 

Which was probably why she was having infinitely more fun than she'd had on any date before Tony. Bruce was clearly enjoying himself as well. Perhaps this was the halfway step he'd needed to get back into the game, a little bit of practice with no stakes attached (stakes other than national security, of course).

After minutes of walking, they reached a dock; a mix of expensive yachts and fishing boats huddled together, rocking calmly in the night waves.

Pepper figured they could use one of the radios to get word to Rhodey’s team, or at least Tony, who would be able to fly over to pick them up by morning.

“Ever stolen a boat?” she asked.

She had expected to see fear in his eyes, or at the very least, had expected him to take off his glasses and rub at them. But instead, a slow smile of mischief spread over his features.

“First time for everything.”

Hand in hand, they ran.


End file.
